A word about rawhide: My Boston Terrier, Buster, was a champion chewer. He could destroy the “indestructible” in a few minutes. Once, I happened to look over at him, and he was choking to death on a rawhide “bone” that he had managed to untangle and had tried to swallow. Most of it was down his throat, with just enough hanging out of his mouth for me to pull on.
If I hadn’t been home, I would have found him dead. That was the end of me buying rawhide. Ever.